It's all about you

‘Dr’ Jack Monroe has been off on one. A heavily tattooed, unstable, former lesbian, state-enabled single mother turned transitional role model for non-binary gender identity... I don’t even know where this is going any more. She has decided, in her quest to be an eternal victim, to utilise the worst of all aspects of her multi-faceted mental illness, so that she can scream into Twitter as all the hatred in the world is directed at her... in her fevered dreams. As somebody on my timeline said, Laurie Penny’s people need to up their game.

What is it that makes some people think that the world owes them anything at all? A living? A nice life? Fame, money, happiness, success... not one of these things is even close to approaching a human right, yet there is a whole underclass of people for whom the world has no use who believe that the world is their oyster... but that somebody else has to shuck it for them. Behind those dull, sunken eyes lies a distorted world view at which we can only guess, although it’s not an entirely uninformed supposition:

You have a shit job. You have a shit life. You are uneducated. You spend the weekend off your tits on booze and skunk. You fight with your on/off girlfriend and have been arrested more than once because she has reported you to the police. Your temper is short and because you can’t win arguments with intellect you resort quickly to physical aggression. You are banned from several local pubs and at least one football ground and the local magistrates say you have anger issues. A small fortune has been squandered in just containing your belligerence.

You say school was shit and all the teachers were nonces, so you sacked that off pretty quickly and by the age of thirteen you were rarely in class at all. You left without sitting any exams and spent the rest of your teen years fantasising about setting the place on fire or beating an old teacher to a pulp and leaving them to bleed to death in a dark alley somewhere for once calling you lazy, or employing an insulting sarcasm you were incapable of comprehending. In your estimation you are a somebody on your estate and deserve better from life.

You did try for a job once, in a labouring capacity and as a result of one of your frequent court appearances, but you got pissed off with being told what to do and the last straw was when the foreman criticised your ineptitude. You lasted less than a week but you still tell stories when you’re high about your days ‘working for the man’. You now inform everybody you meet (who are exactly like you, because who else would deign seek your company?) that working is a mug’s game because while they will have to work for fifty thankless years or more to earn a state pension, you will have one waiting should you live to collect it.

You’re overweight, wheezy and frequently dulled by drugs and your self-induced corpulence and malaise is playing havoc with your joints; you have your eyes set on a mobility scooter because it’s not your fault you’re becoming disabled, is it? At least you have no trouble getting a doctor’s appointment – you’re in the surgery with some complaint or other every other week. But what do doctors know about shit anyway? The last one suggested you get about more, become more active, maybe even have another go at working. They are all in it together; your skunk-induced paranoia is ever-present

Nobody gave you a chance, you say? You’ve had nothing but chances; more effort and expense has been expended by a too-caring society in calming you, trying to teach you, restraining you, occasionally incarcerating you, monitoring you and keeping you alive, well, fed and housed than twenty other people will see in a lifetime, yet you persist in believing you get nothing. You get everything you need and more and what does society get in return? Your doppelgänger girlfriend is pregnant again...

I'm all right Jack

9 photos that prove…

Don’t you get fed up with all those posted links that promise to reveal shocking or funny or sexy ‘facts’ without which your life would have less meaning? Ten scary diseases, funniest photo ‘fails’, the top 10 worst celebrity wedding dresses ever and so ad-infinitum. Or those news stories, reported in social media, via other social media sites, which incorporate the item into their own advertising-riddled, bandwidth-heavy pages. What is wrong with people? It’s a form of Parkinson’s Law in operation; data will expand to fill the bandwidth available. Whatever happened to the Spartan days of the nineties when everybody was trying for optimal download times and Google emerged as the only effective search engine which was clean and tidy and actually delivered what you sought?

Serial offenders tweet and re-tweet the links as if to say “Look at me! I have nothing to say, but look at me anyway!” And until you recognise the ploy you’re tempted by these intriguing links and onto their fancifully ‘moneytised’ sites and then wonder what personal information of yours you divulge as cookies dutifully clog up your system and they earn a few tiny fractions of pennies from the deal. It’s all about me, me, me, because few of the rabid insidious click-baiters seem to ever engage with any other users.

Then you have the other extreme whereby the whole of the new media is there purely for fragile egos to seek support for their whining causes. And there are few whinier causes than the train-wreck that is ‘Dr’ Jack Monroe; forever setting herself up as the victim following the reactions to some ill-judged outburst. Yesterday she set a small part of Twitter alight by tweeting some bollocks about how her five-year old had seen one of the hate-tweets she exists to attract and how she had then had to explain it to said child.

Perfect. Perfect because this then elicited a heap of responses as to why she was exposing her brat to her online hell and this sort of abuse is pretty much the reason she gets out of bed most days. In her warped, entitled, self-centred world everybody else is using her child as some form of punch bag and she seems utterly oblivious to everybody’s genuine outrage that she has, once again, used her child to talk about… Jack Monroe. Sorry, I should say ‘Doctor’ Jack Monroe because she somehow managed to blag an honorary doctorate for services to lesbian victimhood. A pity she didn’t also manage to snag the class not to flaunt it.

We all like a bit of attention but some take the piss. One of the most selfish things you can do is to bring a life into the world without asking yourself if you are suitable parent for that child. So when people have the nerve to express doubt about her very public lack of credentials she gets to have her daily Violet Elizabeth Bott episode until everybody else is sick. In the mind-set of the illiberal left of course, expressing a dissenting opinion is hate speech of the worst kind. Bad parenting is beyond reproach but reproaching bad parenting demands the full attention of the law.

Dr Jack - the world's best parental example...

She continually sets herself up as Aunt Sally and then sets her fellow be-tattooed lesbian attack dogs on those who dare throw missiles her way. As for using her very publicly state-funded fatherless child as a punch bag, what about her constantly using that same child as bait for the psychological self-harm of attracting opprobrium?  More selfish than bringing into the world a child without thought? Bring a life into the world and then use that life to continue making it all about you. That, Jack, is the bit you never seem to understand.